


White Rose

by sstwins



Series: Ouran High School Host Club [5]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, and haruhi's dead mother buried underground ripppppppppppp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstwins/pseuds/sstwins
Summary: Tamaki and Haruhi visit the graveyard where Haruhi's mother is buried.





	White Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a prompt from my sister, who asked for a story with these three ideas: graveyard, white flower, and Tamaki x Haruhi!
> 
> HI SO I REALIZED THAT HARUHI'S MOTHER WAS ACTUALLY CREMATED I THINK??? BUT TOOOOO BAD NOW SHE IS BURIED

Tamaki flinched back as the pair approached the gate, reaching for Haruhi’s hand with one of his own, the other hand tightly clutching a single white rose.

Haruhi turned to look at him, squeezing his fingers. “What’s wrong, Senpai?” she asked playfully, and Tamaki glanced away to eye the imposing metal gate.

“I don’t know if it would be a good idea. For me to come with you. Maybe I’ll wait out here for you.” 

“But Tamaki-senpai, this whole trip was your idea in the first place.” Haruhi rolled her eyes and gave him a little tug. “Now come on.”

Tamaki remained frozen in place. “It’s just… I’ve never been to a cemetery before,” he blurted out, looking past the entrance towards all of the little gravestones arranged in uncomfortably neat lines. He was holding the rose so tightly that a thorn dug into his skin, causing a single drop of blood to fall to the ground.

Haruhi’s fingers wrapped around his hand and the rose so that the two were connected in a perfect circle. “It’s alright,” she muttered soothingly. “I was nervous my first time too. But there aren’t any ghosts. You’ll be just fine.”

If Haruhi said it would be fine, then it would be fine. Tamaki forced a smile onto his face. “Of course. You lead the way. You know where to go, after all.” 

Haruhi had to let go of one of his hands to open the gate, but Tamaki tried to focus on her warmth through the other connection as he took his first steps onto the sacred ground.

It wasn’t quiet like he’d thought it would be. Birds were still chirping in the trees. Their footsteps still crunched in the gravel. Somehow, the sounds made the place feel more human, and Tamaki let out a little of the tension that he’d been holding in. The graveyard was much more peaceful than scary. 

They walked along a path for a while, past statues of angels and unlimited marble memorials. Then, Haruhi started to lead him away into the grass, stopping in front of a small, simple headstone. She bent down in front of it and Tamaki followed suit, bowing his head in respect.

_ Kotoko Fujioka _

_ February 1, 1971 - June 30, 2001 _

_ “To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die.” _ __   
  


A long silence followed, in which Tamaki held onto Haruhi tighter than he had before. It was difficult to think that her own mother lay beneath them, parent and child separated by only a thin layer of grass and dirt. 

The sensation of shaking caused Tamaki to turn away from the headstone. Haruhi’s frail body was quivering, and a single tear had slipped from between her eyelashes, sliding softly down her cheek. Unsure of what else to do when she was in such distress, Tamaki freed up his hand to wrap the girl up in a tight hug, holding her closer when he felt her shudder. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Haruhi.”

“I’m s-sorry...” Haruhi choked out, her head buried in Tamaki’s chest, “that you h-have to see me like this.”

“No, Haruhi. It’s good to cry.” Tamaki began stroking the girl’s hair, rose still held in the edge of his grasp. “Everyone needs to cry.”

“But you never cry,” the girl sniffled. “Neither does Kyoya, or Mori, or Hikaru, or Kaoru-”

“Oh no, Haruhi.” Tamaki rested his chin on her head. “The day I was seperated from my mother, I cried for hours. I think that’s why my grandmother doesn’t like me. She thinks I have a weak heart.”

At this, Haruhi looked up into the boy’s eyes, which were just starting to glisten like her own. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tamaki smiled gently. “I don’t think that crying means I have a weak heart. If anything, I think that not crying would be worse, because it would mean that I don’t care about anything.”

Haruhi’s expression cautiously lightened at that. She reached up and wiped away a tear before turning her head back to face the gravestone, leaning in to rest once again against Tamaki’s body. The two sat still, listening to the wind rustling through the grass. A songbird sounded in the distance.

“Your mother sounds like a very exceptional woman, Haruhi,” Tamaki murmured, still holding the girl tight.

Haruhi sighed, but it was more content now than distraight. “She was,” she whispered. “She really was.”

The couple stayed like that for a long time, feeling the other’s warmth and thinking about how lucky they were to be alive. When Haruhi rose to leave, Tamaki didn’t argue with her. A person could only take so many memories. Before they left, though, Tamaki let Haruhi separate from him, watching her walk onto the path before he bent down again and laid the single white rose across the grass in front of the headstone.

“Thank you for her,” he whispered, so low that only Kotoko Fujioka could possibly hear him. Then, he stood and rejoined Haruhi, the two immediately lacing their fingers together in a perfect match as they headed back to the world of the living.


End file.
